


Flay

by desk_mess



Series: BtJM One-Shots [1]
Category: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Blood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knives, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desk_mess/pseuds/desk_mess
Summary: Beej has a depressive episode. Charles is the only other person awake.(Rated Teen for Language and Implications.)
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Charles Deetz
Series: BtJM One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762942
Comments: 4
Kudos: 104





	Flay

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what warnings to add, if necessary. And please if you are struggling with suicidal and/or homicidal thoughts, please talk to someone.  
> Edit: when I reference Beej's age in this, there's a bit of a time flaw. I kept using human years instead of demon years to refer to him. Oopsie.  
> 

_ Idiot!  _

He had been feeling like this for weeks now. 

_ Failure! _

Everything had become muted. 

_ Useless! _

Nothing felt real. 

**_Parasite!_ **

No one was awake. The house was dark and oppressively quiet. Beetlejuice had been waiting for everyone to go to bed. It was just past ten when he snuck down to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the holder. It felt nice to hold one again. The handle was smooth and cool under his fingers. The blade was so shiny he could see his distraught face reflected in it. He laid a gentle finger on the tip and instantly it drew blood. The pain was soft. Welcome. With just a prick, Beetlejuice felt a small amount of  _ realness _ return. The pain was grounding. Not the healthiest, he knew, but it was something. 

Upstairs, he sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled the string on his bedside lamp. The bulb flared to life with a soft buzz. Beetlejuice removed his sweatshirt and rolled up his neat, white tank top. The paunch of his stomach was already littered with white scars and stretch marks. 

_ "You  _ **_idiot!_ ** _ You can't die! You're already dead!" _

That was the first time she had caught him cutting. He was five in human years. 

The blood dribbled lightly from the shallow cuts. Not deep enough to flow but  _ just _ enough to scar. He rolled down the shirt and it clung to him, red spots seeping and spreading. Next he turned to his upper arms. They were pelted with scars. Not only knife wounds, though. Some were perfect, circular burns. 

_ "You want to feel? I'll  _ **_give_ ** _ you something to feel!" _

That was the first time she burned him. He was only almost six in human years. 

The blood flowed quicker from his arms. The cuts were deeper to make it through the scar tissue. He wouldn't be able to lift much the next few days. Beetlejuice slipped on his hoodie again and looked down at his final target. He laid the knife next to him for a moment, red dripping onto the spotless cream sheets. He rolled up his boxers to reveal his horribly marked up lower thighs. The knife was back in his hand. 

_ "You're a demon! You take what you want!" With Juno's nod, a whip cracked against a young demon's back.  _

_ "I won't do it! It's wrong! I don't want to hurt her!" Beetlejuice was on his knees, crying. In front of him was Juno, towering over the boy. Kneeling behind her was a beautiful latina. She was gagged with a scrap of filthy fabric and her hands were shackled to the wall above her. She was also completely naked.  _

_ "I don't give a fuck! You take from them what you damn well please!" Beetlejuice was whipped again. Juno walked away to talk to someone else and the little demon looked up at the girl in front of him. She couldn't be more than twenty in human years. Beetlejuice himself was only seven in human years. He turned his face back down to the ground as Juno approached again, a newcomer behind her. Said newcomer was another demon. One of the disciples of Asmodeus. "Take him," was all that was said before the disciple and Beetlejuice found themselves in an empty dungeon. _

That was what started centuries of brainwashing and torment. Only treated by staying in the Maitland-Deetz household. 

When Beetlejuice opened his eyes again it was to hear a light rapping on his door.  _ Damnit! _

* * *

Charles had decided to stay up later than usual to update the listings on the realtor website. Finishing the fifth one that night, he glanced down at the clock on the desktop and sighed. It was nearing eleven. He still had three more listings to update. He began to work on the next one when he heard a soft whimper and sniffle from the bedroom next door to his office. Concerned, Charles stood up and laid an ear to the wall to see if he could collect more data. All he gathered was more sniffles and whimpers and the rustle of fabric.  _ Lawrence must be having a nightmare. _

After grabbing two juice boxes from the refrigerator, Charles headed back upstairs and tapped gently on Lawrence's door. "Lawrence, can I come in?" On the other side, there was a deafening clatter. Concern and anxiety growing, Charles tried the door knob to find it locked. "Please, Lawrence, unlock the door," he was met with a pained whimper that sounded suspiciously like 'no.' "I can't help you if you don't let me in," Charles was met with silence. Sighing, he took a thin red knitting needle and pressed it into the keyhole. The lock gave way. 

"I'm coming in," the door let out a  _ creak _ and Lawrence gave a muffled yelp and a hard  _ thump. _ Charles stepped in and looked around. The bedside lamp was on low and something glinted up from the floor next to the bed. Lawrence was nowhere to be seen. Charles stepped closer to the glint as he put the knitting needle back in his pocket. He let out an involuntary gasp. There, laying innocently on the floor, was a boning knife, the blade coated in deep red blood. 

Charles set the juice boxes on the nightstand and picked up the knife. The handle was still warm to the touch. He laid the knife on the nightstand. Charles peered over the edge of the bed (trying to ignore just  _ how much _ blood was on the comforter) to see Lawrence looking up at him. His hair was a messy twist of oranges, blues, blacks, and purples.  _ I'll have to go pull up the chart later. _ His amber eyes were wide with fear and tear filled. Charles sat down sideways on the bed and Lawrence shrunk back. Charles knew he wasn't good with emotions but he'd be damned if he had to go wake someone else up. 

"Lawrence, did you hurt someone?" The man in question nodded slowly. "Who did you hurt?" Lawrence paused and looked down at himself. "Beetlejuice, who did you hurt?" Charles hated pulling out the middle name but it was the most effective way to get the man's attention. Lawrence looked up at Charles before raising a shaky hand with a wince. He pointed to himself. "Oh dear.... Can you tell me why?" Lawrence shook his head. "Okay, that's alright. Can I help patch you up?" Lawrence tilted his head questioningly before nodding and moving up onto the bed. 

The arms of his sweatshirt were growing more red by the second and as he brought his legs up, blood dripped onto the floor and mattress. Charles sent him a soft smile before grabbing a juice box and opening the flaps and punching in the straw. He held out the box to his companion who took it with a shaky smile. "I'll be right back, okay?" Lawrence nodded as Charles stood and left. 

Back in the kitchen, Charles fished out the first aid kit from under the sink. About to leave, he turned back and grabbed a third juice box.  _ Won't hurt to be over prepared. _ Lawrence was still sitting quietly, sipping his juice, when Charles returned. Charles tapped lightly on the door before stepping in and closing it. Gesturing for Lawrence to follow, Charles led him to the en suite and sat him down on the toilet. On the floor, Charles laid down a couple of towels so the floor wouldn't stain as badly. While he did this, Lawrence took off the old college sweatshirt Charles had gifted him. Underneath was a white tank top whose front was bloodied. The source was Lawrence's upper arms, the fronts of which were covered with cuts from the boning knife. 

Charles took a washcloth from the sink and dampened it. Lawrence winced as soon as the warm cloth touched his arm. "I know it hurts. It'll be over soon," Lawrence nodded numbly and Charles continued. When the cloth was soaked red, he grabbed another and continued until Lawrence's arms were cleaner. Grabbing yet another clean cloth, he poured some peroxide on it. "This is going to hurt  _ a lot _ . Let me know if you need a break," Lawrence nodded. 

They only needed to take a few breaks as Lawrence numbed quickly to the pain. After his arms were clean, Charles covered them with gauze pads and wrapped them softly with elastic bandages. "Is there anymore?" Charles, of course, knew the answer before he asked. After all, Lawrence's legs had been completely coated with blood now and there was a sizable pool on the floor. Even though he knew Lawrence was dead, it still made the living man incredibly anxious and uncomfortable. 

Lawrence sighed and pulled up his shirt. His torso was  _ also _ covered with shallow cuts. After he let it down again, he rolled up his boxers to reveal even deeper cuts than those on his arms. Charles let out a sympathetic sigh and laid a gentle hand on Lawrence's shoulder. From his standing position, he pulled Lawrence into a loose hug which he didn't return. "I need to go get more washcloths. I'll be back in a bit," with that, Charles left.  _ It's going to be a long night. _

It was one in the morning by the time Lawrence was completely patched up and clean. Charles had run out of clean washcloths and swapped to using full sized towels. He'd also run out of gauze pads and bandages and had to go find more in another first aid kit. 

Charles sat down on the edge of the tub to look over at Lawrence. Lawrence was guiltily peering into the bathtub where a decent sized pile of bloody towels and washcloths sat. Seeing this, Charles set a hand on Lawrence's knee. "Don't feel guilty about this. It's no big deal," Lawrence looked away and sipped on his second juice box. His hair had shifted to yellow-green, teal, and blue with only a few stripes of black.  _ I really have to check the chart. _ Charles reached over and turned Lawrence's chin to face him. "How about you come sit with me in my office and eat cookies and drink your juice?" Lawrence nodded and smiled softly. "Alright. Do you need help getting over there?" Lawrence's hair flashed pink and he nodded. 

They made it to Charles' office with little fanfare. Lawrence pulled one of the plushy chairs over next to the office chair with a soft squeal. He plopped himself into the chair and curled up with his legs over the arm and his head against the vacant office chair. Charles ruffled Lawrence's hair then made his way downstairs to grab a few different sleeves of cookies and the rest of the juice boxes. 

* * *

The next morning, Delia found the two asleep, Lawrence leaning against Charles. The latter had a strong, protective arm around the former. There were dopey smiles on both of their faces and Lawrence's hair was a  _ brilliant _ green. 

**Author's Note:**

> Why must I be mean to my faves?  
> Remember: You are loved and cherished and we'd hate to lose you <3.


End file.
